


A Good Night's Work

by helsinkibaby



Series: Tests of Faith [7]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-24
Updated: 2002-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ep to <i>The Lame Duck Congress</i>. A look back at Ginger and Toby's first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Night's Work

Donna and I are in CJ's office, sitting side by side on the couch, talking and generally relaxing. We don't normally do this, but it is late, well past close of business, and CJ told us that we could wait for her in here. She had to go to the Oval Office, and sent Carol home on her way out, but we all agreed to meet up in here tonight. There was the idea being floated around that the three of us were going to go out for dinner, but it's a little late for that now. That being said, we all pretty much knew that that plan was scuppered when Toby spent the day worrying about a lame duck Congress being called and Josh was trying to stop a drunken Russian politician and his hooker friend from seeing the President.

I've often wondered what my life would have been like if I'd actually taken my parents' advice and not joined the campaign when I finished school. It'd be quieter, sure. I'd get home a lot earlier, have a hell of a lot more sleep.

But it wouldn't be half as interesting.

That being said, I'd trade interesting for normal in a heartbeat some days, especially after the summer that we've just gone through. That's one of the reasons that the three of us want to spend some quality girl time together, because it's been way too long since we've done that. I was trying to keep people from finding out how worried I was about Toby, how far apart we've become, Donna was taking care of Josh, and CJ…well, CJ was trying to keep her head about water, while trying to make sure all ours were too.

Donna's in the middle of telling me all about Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and Josh and Leo's lack of concern about it, not for the first time today, when CJ comes in, jumping when she sees us there. "Hey," she says, but she looks distracted, and more than a little upset.

Donna and I exchange a worried look. "You ok CJ?" I ask, although the question is plainly redundant. She's as far from ok as I've ever seen her look.

"Fine, fine." She throws her briefing book down on the table, swinging around with an elaborate flourish, smiling brightly down at us. Too brightly I know straight away, and the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "What are you guys doing here?"

"You said we could meet here," Donna reminds her gently. "Before you went to the Oval, remember?"

I can see CJ's face clearing, and add, "We were going to go out someplace."

"Yeah…" The word is a sigh, and CJ drops down on the chair beside us. "I'm not really up for going out tonight."

Donna and I exchange another look. "CJ, did something happen in the Oval Office?" Donna asks. "Is there something wrong?"

There's another sigh from CJ. "Danny was there."

Understanding lights Donna's face, and, I’m sure, mine as well. That explains CJ's mood all too well, because this is something that's been brewing for quite a while. It's no secret among us, or even anywhere in the West Wing, that Danny's had a thing for CJ since the campaign. He never did anything about it, and truthfully, I'm pretty sure that CJ was oblivious to it. The first inkling that she had of it was the time of the State Dinner for President Seguto, when he asked her what she was wearing, and complimented her on it. I wasn't at the dinner, I was manning the phone lines about a hurricane watch, but she talked to me the next day, wondering what it meant. I did manage to keep a straight face, but it took some effort.

She told me about all the times that he asked her out after that, told me the reasons why she refused. And by that time, it was obvious that Danny was pursuing her, finally, and Toby had some serious reservations about it, and shared them with me. I disagreed with him, no surprise there, because I think Danny's a great guy and that he'd be good for CJ. Toby accused me of being an incurable romantic, and I told him that I was very proud of that. She laughed when she showed me the goldfish that he gave her, told me about the misunderstanding behind it, but there was more than just amusement in her eyes, and when she told me that she had dinner with him after Christmas, I wasn't surprised. Danny can be very charming when he wants to be, and I didn't expect CJ to stand up against it for long.

I was the only one who knew that she kissed him the night of the State of the Union, the only one who knew that while she recognised that she had to be seen to be keeping a distance from him, that she really didn't want to. And they might have gone on dancing around one another had it not been for the fact that Mandy's memo surfaced and Danny got a copy of it.

I always knew that I hated that woman.

That lead to a serious cooling off in relations between them, with CJ blanking Danny completely at times. This summer, he moved slightly back into her good graces; the articles he wrote after the shooting, especially the one that mentioned me and Toby winning him huge brownie points.

Then the Post began writing negative op-eds about us and it stirred it all up again.

However, from the way CJ's looking now, I think that things have pretty well been sorted out.

"What happened CJ?" I asked her, and she took another deep breath.

"I need a beer," she decides, standing up and going to the fridge. "Join me?" Donna and I accept gratefully, and absent a bottle opener, I open them all by slamming the lid down against the desk, popping the tops off easily that way. When I hand CJ's bottle back to her, there's a smile on her face and she's shaking her head. Just for an instant, she's the CJ I know again. "You have got to teach me how to do that," she declares.

She takes a long swallow of the beer when she sits down again, then closes her eyes for a second. "Before Danny came in," she begins. "The President told me that he'd heard things. About Danny and me."

I inhale sharply, because there's no way that's good.

"He pointed out that we're both great at our jobs. But that while we had those jobs, things were never going to work out between us."

She's silent then, and it's Donna who speaks. "Is that how you feel?"

"Yeah." CJ looks up at her with another sigh, and I'm struck by a realisation as I look at her.

"There's more isn't there? Something else."

She looks at me in surprise, and for a second, I'm sure that she's going to deny it. Then her face changes, and she looks down. "Danny was offered an editor's job," she tells us, pausing to allow the implications to hit us. If Danny wasn't in the Press Room, then there'd be no conflict of interest, no unhappy Toby, no impediment to the two of them being together. "He turned it down."

"Why?" Donna and I ask together.

"He says that he's a reporter, not an editor." There's just a hint of asperity in CJ's voice. "And that he doesn't have a problem with the Press Secretary dating a reporter."

"But you do." Donna's voice is quiet.

"I do, Toby does, Leo does, the President does…" CJ's voice grows louder as she stands up, pacing the length of her office restlessly. "The rest of the room would; they'd probably feel like he was getting special favours… I'd lose credibility, and if anything went wrong between us, God knows what would happen…" Her voice trails off in frustration. "He just doesn't see it. And there's nothing that we can do."

She drops back down in the chair again, defeated, taking another long sip of her beer. "I hate men," she announces finally, before giving me a look. "And if you start talking about your perfect marriage, so help me…"

There's a hint of a smile behind her eyes, despite her words, and I find myself blushing. "We're not that perfect," I tell her, thinking of the last few months.

My admission draws a burst of laughter from CJ, and an "Oh please," from Donna. I look at her and she continues, "You and Toby are so happy together it's disgusting."

"And you have been from the first moment that we saw you," CJ adds.

"We've had our bad times too," I point out, but CJ waves a hand.

"I'm not denying that. We had ringside seats, remember?" I nod, drinking my beer. "But that was a blip Ginger. An aberration. You two have been star-crossed since the first day you met."

"Yeah," Donna agrees. "You've even got the perfect first date story."

I do what she probably expected me to do when she mentions that, the thing that I always do when I remember the first time that Toby and I went out. I break out into a wide smile, and CJ and Donna both laugh at me, shaking their heads in pretend exasperation as I think back to that night.

*

It was a Wednesday night, I remember that well. I was studying for my Master's in Communications at NYU, working part-time in a bar to make ends meet. I was sharing an apartment with three other girls, all of whom were in my classes. We hadn't started off the course living together, but we met in class, got on well, and decided that four could live as cheaply as one, and with much more fun. Wednesday night was one of our favourite nights, because we didn't have any lectures early on Thursday morning, and as such, it was the night that we could forget about working, because we'd all told our bosses that we were only free to work at weekends, forget about getting up early for classes, and we would go out and party until the clubs closed. It was the only night of the week that we allowed ourselves to do that, and we always had a pretty wild time.

Which is why I remember that night in particular, because none of us were too wild about the fact that instead of our usual night of fun and dancing, we had to attend a lecture. To add insult to injury, it wasn't even one of our usual professors; it was a guest speaker that he'd lined up to come and speak to us that evening, and he'd let it be known that he would be keeping an eye on the attendance, and that non-attendance, without a valid excuse, would be frowned upon.

Based on that, we all went. That's not to say that we managed to arrive on time exactly. We were five minutes late, but the lecture hadn't started yet, so it wasn't a total disaster. What was a disaster, as far as four giggling students was concerned, was the fact that our usual seats, right up at the back of the hall, were gone, and that every other seat was filled; clear proof that our fellow students had taken the professor's threat as seriously as we had. The only seats that were left were ones right in the front row, and with red faces, and venomous glances being directed towards Susan, whose idea it had been to go for coffee in the first place, they were the seats that we sat in.

It took a couple more minutes for the lecture to start, and we took our time examining the man who was going to talk to us. "I thought we'd at least get a looker," grumbled Deb, and looking up on the dais, I could see her point at first. Let's face it, the man was balding, paunchy, he looked to be about twenty years older than us, and from the expression on his face, he was about as enthused at being there as we were. So we laughed, and we agreed with her.

And then, he started to speak.

Five minutes into the speech, maybe even less than that, I found myself unable to look away. I couldn't articulate the reason why then, any more than I can even now, but there was just something about him, something that told me with sure certainty that I could sit and listen to him for hours. Forever if it came to that. I was sitting right in the middle of our happy gang of four, and they were passing notes, exchanging glances on either side of me, and I couldn't have cared less. I found myself taking notes, really trying to follow his arguments, predict where he was going to go next, and when he asked for questions at the end, I was one of the first with my hand up. Which was something new, and the girls couldn't stop teasing me about it quietly. And I didn't care.

Any more than I cared when the lecture was over and we all exited the hall, and the three of them were planning on beginning our normal Wednesday night carousing, albeit a little later than expected. When I told them that I was going to hang around here for a bit, they turned to me in unison, identical expressions of scepticism on all their faces. "Ginger…" Susan said, a warning tone in her voice.

"What are you doing?" Deb asked.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I just have a couple more questions, that's all."

"Uh-huh." Anne, always the sensible one, added her voice to the mix. "And are these about the lecture?"

"Sure."

I always was a pretty bad liar, and they just shook their heads at me. "Sure they are," Anne replied, throwing her hands up to Heaven. "We're not going to talk you out of this, are we?"

Truth of the matter was that I didn't even know what they were going to try to talk me out of. It's not like I had some agenda, some grand plan to seduce the man. That, believe it or not, wasn't anywhere near my thoughts. There was just something about him, something that drew me to him. Something that made me think that I wouldn't mind getting to know him better.

So I shook my head and they rolled their eyes, and off they went.

It didn't take long for him to come out of the lecture theatre, and mercifully, he was on his own. I was leaning against the opposite wall, and when he came out, it suddenly struck me how ridiculously I was behaving. I mean, what was I going to say to him? I was all ready to turn tail and run when something miraculous happened.

He saw me.

And he smiled.

Strange as it might sound, he hadn't smiled once during the lecture. I would have said from his tone of voice, from his demeanour, that it wasn't an expression of which he was capable. But when he saw me, a genuine smile spread across his face, lighting it up, right the way to his eyes.

He had the nicest, kindest smile I'd ever seen in my life.

And that was it, I was gone.

I smiled back at him, which seemed like the natural thing to do, and pushing myself away from the wall, began to walk over to him, but he met me halfway. "That was a great lecture," I told him, and promptly began remonstrating with myself over what a lame line that was.

But he had an answer for it. "Your friends didn't seem as attentive as you were," he observed, and I blushed and ducked my head for a second.

"I think they were more concerned with the night of partying they were losing," I admitted frankly, and he laughed. If the smile hadn't done me in, the laugh definitely would have.

"Is that where they've disappeared to now?" When I nodded, he continued, "And why haven't you gone with them?"

I shrugged. "I had a couple of thoughts about what you said, and I was wondering if I could talk to you about them." I paused for a moment, just long enough to either gather my courage or discard my sanity, whichever way you wanted to look at it. "Maybe over a drink?"

He blinked at that, maybe not expecting me to be so straightforward about it. But then he nodded again, and smiled. "I'd like that," he said.

We went to a small bar that I knew near campus; not one of the regular student hang-outs, but a quiet place, where you went if you actually wanted to talk to the person that you were drinking with. He ordered a Jack Daniel's and I stuck to beer, and we talked. It started off being about things that he'd said in his speech, things that I agreed with and disagreed with, and it expanded on to other things that I'd studied as well. I'd never had a conversation quite like that with anyone before; where my ideas were being challenged, dissected, taken apart piece by piece, sometimes falling asunder, sometimes being put back together stronger than they were when I began. Well, I had had conversations like that before, but in the confines of a debate, or a study group. I'd never had one outside of that. And they'd never been such fun.

From there, we got on to New York in general, what we thought of the city. I told him that I was from Jersey; he told me that he'd been raised in Brooklyn. We exchanged generalities about our families, he asked me what I wanted to do when I finished my Master's. I wanted to hear all about the campaigns that he'd worked on, and it was then that I learned that he was only recently divorced, that his marriage hadn't been able to stand up to the constant travelling and separations. We talked about everything, and we only stopped when he looked away to call the bartender and realised that all the other patrons had left, that one bartender was putting up the chairs, while another was sweeping the floors.

"I think they want us to leave," he pointed out, and I laughed, standing up. He took my coat from my hands and helped me slip it on, pulling my hair, which at that time fell to my waist, out from under the collar gently.

"So where do you want to go next?" I asked him when we were out on the sidewalk, and he looked surprised as he checked his watch.

"It's pretty late. I would have thought you'd be wanting to go home." I arched one eyebrow, and he looked down, obviously flustered. "That wasn't what I meant," he muttered.

I shrugged. "Shame." His head snapped up then, and his eyes met mine, and the air seemed to crackle around us. "Are you hungry?" I asked him, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. I'm guessing that's not what he expected me to say.

"A little," he replied. "Why?"

I grabbed him by the hand, already leading him down the block. "Because I know this great little all night diner…they do a great cheeseburger…"

He didn't resist, just laughed, so I didn't have to drag him along too hard. I didn't drop his hand all the same though, and he didn't seem to mind, because he gripped mine back, even rearranging his hold so that our fingers could intertwine. When we arrived at Sal's, it was practically empty, and we had our choice of booth, so I picked one right at the back. Of course, that meant we had to walk the length of the narrow room, which meant that Sal had plenty of time to see us, and see us he did.

Let me explain first of all that Sal is the kind of restaurant owner that you see in the movies. He's in his sixties, a little round fat man with a shock of white hair around a bald spot, and he's got an Italian accent that you could turn cartwheels on. He hired me to wait tables when I first got to New York, and didn't hold it against me when I left to work in a bar where I had less hours and better tips. He just made me promise to keep coming in and seeing him, and with the food that he served up, that was no hardship.

"Hey Ginger!" he called out, and I didn't stop walking, although I could sense Toby's confusion. "I thought you'd fallen out with me!"

"I wouldn't do that Sal," I promised him. "You know you're one of the most important men in my life."

Sal threw his hands up in the air, rolling his eyes for good measure. "You hear how she talks?" he asked the rest of the patrons, coming around the counter and coming towards our booth. I took my coat off, throwing it in the corner and sliding in, the red cracked leather of the seat as comfortable to me as my own bed. Toby took longer to sit down, probably wondering what the hell kind of place I'd brought him to. "Here's a menu," Sal told us, handing one to me and one to Toby.

"Sal, you think I need a menu?" I pretended to be offended, but Sal had an answer for me. I should have known better than to try to one-up that man.

"I know you don't, but your boyfriend does." With that, he walked off, leaving me blushing scarlet, and Toby looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look on his face.

"Come here often?" he deadpanned, and I laughed, explaining to him how I knew Sal.

"He looked out for me while I was working here," I finished. "He's doing the whole father figure thing."

"I see." It was then that Sal came back over to us, pen poised to take our order.

"I'm gonna take a guess," he said, looking at me. "Cheeseburger with the works, large fries, chocolate milkshake. Am I wrong?" I considered denying it, then I nodded my head. Sal then turned his attention to Toby. "And the gentleman?"

"That sounds good," Toby said simply. "But coffee for me."

Once Sal was gone, we ended up talking about my time working here and some of the more amusing things that happened to me, with me hoping all the while that Sal wouldn't decide to join me and put his two cents in. I wouldn't have put it past him. The only time he came over however was when he put the food in front of us and he left us alone then. We ate slowly, still talking in between bites, and even when there was silence, it wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, like we'd known each other forever.

I don't know when it happened, but sometime during the meal, one of my hands had become joined with his across the table, and we both jumped when Sal arrived over, bearing a plate with a huge slice of his famous chocolate mud pie and two spoons. "For the lovebirds," he told us, a twinkle in his eye as he walked away.

I was red again, and Toby was chuckling. "Subtle, isn't he?"

"I'm surprised that he hasn't got the jukebox going for us yet," I replied.

I really, really should learn to keep my mouth shut, I realised a second later, as the strains of Chapel of Love filled the diner. I looked over at Sal, who was laughing behind the counter, and groaned when he winked over at me, letting my head rest on the hand that wasn't joined with Toby. "Hey," he said to me as he squeezed my hand. "It's ok."

I looked up at him, not sure whether to be sceptical or just to die of embarrassment right then and there. But his smile was genuine, not mocking; in fact it was almost gentle, and he raised our joined hands to his lips and kissed my hand quickly. I grinned at him, breathing a sigh of relief, and he let our hands drop to the table again, pushing the dessert to the middle of the table, and handing me one of the spoons.

Sal sent over coffee later on, and when he settled the bill with us, Toby insisting on paying, over my strong protests, he didn't charge us for the dessert. Or for the coffee, or for the refills that he kept plying us with. I lost all track of time, until I yawned in the middle of a sentence. I apologised, taking another drink of my coffee, while Toby looked at his watch. "Are you aware," he asked me, "That it's four o'clock in the morning?"

"Really?" I checked my own watch; eyes widening as I realised that he was right. "Wow."

"We should probably get going, huh?" he asked.

"We should?" I asked, disappointed, because I was fine where I was, thank you very much.

"Don't you have classes in the morning?"

"Not till the afternoon," I replied. Then his words permeated my brain and I realised that he was trying to cut the night short…or not short, but I knew what I meant. "But if you want to…"

"I'm good," he said quickly. "But if you…"

"I'm good too," I said.

There was a moment's silence. "So," he said finally. "What do you do at four o'clock in the morning?"

"I have an idea," I found myself saying, standing and grabbing my coat. "C'mon, let's go."

"Go? Go out?" He followed me as I tossed off a quick goodbye to Sal, kissing the old man on the cheek and muttering about what I'd do if he ever pulled another stunt like that jukebox stunt on me. His laughter followed us out, and Toby, his hand in mine still, turned to me on the street, standing still. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking that we're going to do what it is you do when you're in New York at this time of the night."

"Go to bed?" he suggested, and I shook my head.

"Toby Ziegler, haven't you ever stayed up all night?"

"Many times," he replied. "But working on a campaign, on a speech. Not like…"

"Well then," I said, tugging his hand and walking off. "You've got a lot to learn."

"And you're going to teach me?" he asked, but he followed me anyway.

I fell into step beside him, smiling up at him with my sassiest grin. "You betcha."

We had to walk for a few minutes before I managed to hail a cab, and I told the driver where to take us, Toby still eyeing me curiously all the while. We didn't talk as the lights of the city at night whizzed by us, just sat side by side, our bodies touching, our hands still joined. Halfway to our destination, he put his other hand on top of mine, and I leaned over closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

When the can stopped, Toby got out first and held the door open for me. I paid the driver, insisting that it was the least that I could do since he paid for the food. Once again, I lead the way, finally reaching our destination, and I stopped once I got there, and he stood beside me and read the words on the sign. "Staten Island Ferry." He rubbed one hand over his forehead. "You're taking me on the Staten Island Ferry?"

I breathed out a sigh of mock exasperation. "Don't tell me. You've never ridden the ferry back and forth until you're freezing cold and the sun's coming up?" He just shook his head. "Well then, let's go."

The ferry was pretty much deserted, and we made our way to the railings once it got underway. There were no clouds in the sky that night, the air was crisp and still, and I found myself smiling once I could see the lights of the city. "I love it out here," I breathed, not able to take my eyes from the sight in front of me.

"You guys do this a lot?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Not really. I tend to do this on my own." I told him honestly. I didn't tell him that the girls freaked out when I did this, pointing out all the things that could happen to a young woman in New York City on her own at night. I didn't tell him that every time I did this, I could hear my mother's voice in the back of my head, lecturing me. I half-expected him to go off on one of those rants, but instead he just turned those serious brown eyes on me.

"And you brought me?"

The unspoken "Why?" hung between us, and I shrugged, turning back to the view. A second later, a gust of air hit me head on, and I shivered involuntarily.

"Are you cold?" he asked me, not having missed it.

"I'm ok," I told him, but I could see from his face that he didn't believe me. He dropped my hand, and for an instant, I felt colder than I did when the wind hit me, but then he moved around behind me. His coat was huge and long, this wonderfully warm camel coloured thing, and he opened it now, slipping both his arms around my waist and wrapping the coat around me that way. I took half a step back, pressing myself closer to him, and felt his cheek resting against the side of my head.

We stayed like that until the sight I was waiting for came into view. "Look," I whispered, and there it was. The Statue of Liberty, all lit up against the brightening sky. "Isn't it lovely?" I asked him.

"Yeah." It was a one-word answer, but when I looked up at him, he wasn't looking at the statue at all. He met my gaze and smiled at me, and I half turned in his arms, lifting my head up slightly, issuing an invitation, one that he took. His lips met mine, gently at first, then more firmly, more insistently, before he pulled back. He grinned quickly at me, kissing the side of my head, then turning his gaze back out to the Statue.

"And if we've timed it right…." I said, pushing the sleeve of his coat up to check his watch, but I didn't need to do that, because right at that moment, the sky turned from dark navy into a riot of colour, as the sun peeked above the horizon for the first time. We watched it rise slowly, not speaking, not needing to, just holding one another as the ferry continued on its way.

The sun was well up in the sky when we came off the ferry, walking arm in arm down the street. We found ourselves a place where we could get breakfast, then he put me in a cab, paid the driver, and sent me home. I made sure to give him my number, and he gave me his, and he promised to call me later on that evening, after we'd both got some sleep. We kissed on the sidewalk until the cab driver complained about charging us extra, and I had a smile on my face the whole way home.

When I walked into the apartment, the girls were already up, and they asked me, loudly, noisily, where the hell I'd been. I think they thought that Toby was some kind of lunatic who'd tied me up and taken advantage of me, and my only response to that was "If only." I threw myself into a chair, giving them the edited highlights of the night, then I stumbled into bed, leaving them strict instructions to call me before our first lecture that afternoon.

I did sleep, and my dreams were spent reliving the time I'd spent with Toby, and my lectures that afternoon were a complete waste of time because all I could do was think of him. I didn't relax until the phone rang later on and I talked to him again. We met again that night, for dinner this time, and I let him go home at what he deemed a "civilised hour" and we kissed on the street again for a long time before I went into the apartment.

I still can't think about that night without smiling.

*

I'm smiling now as I look back on it, and I only come back to reality when Donna pushes my shoulder. I blink a couple of times as I look at her, then over to CJ, seeing identical expressions of amusement on both faces. "What?" I ask.

CJ laughs out loud, and considering how upset she was when she came in here tonight, I'm strangely happy that she's mocking me. "Well, we don't need to ask where your mind was," she manages to get out, and I laugh too.

"It's a good memory," I tell them, taking a long swallow of my beer.

"We know Ginger," Donna tells me. "We're just teasing."

"Besides, that story gives us hope," CJ states. "There are decent men still out there and that we can find them."

"Speaking of…" Donna says, with a lilt in her voice, and we both turn to her curiously. "I have a date next week."

"Do tell," CJ says, leaning forward in her seat. "I could use hearing about someone else's love life."

Donna grins. "His name is Tod. He's an insurance lobbyist for Travis West. And he's gorgeous. We met when I was over on the Hill for Josh…I dropped my files and he helped me pick them up…"

"So he's a gentleman too," I observe. "Does Josh know about this?"

Donna shakes her head. "I'm not telling him until I have to." She rolls her eyes. "Otherwise all I'll hear about for the next week is about my tendency to attract gomers."

I bite my tongue and fight back a smile, having my own ideas about just why Josh might object to the men that Donna dates, and I can see CJ doing the same. "What are you going to do?" I ask instead.

"Dinner," she tells us. "I have to buy a dress." Her eyes narrow slightly. "Something in red I think…"

"Red would look great on you," CJ agrees.

"It looks great on both of you," I point out. "Now me on the other hand..."

"Oh please." Donna waves a hand dismissively. "I'd kill for hair like yours. Remember on the campaign, you had it down nearly to your waist? If I had hair like that, I'd never cut it."

I roll my eyes. "If you had to wash it and dry it and brush it every morning, you'd consider it," I tell her. "I told Toby that I was going to get it cut short. Shorter than yours CJ. He told me he'd divorce me if I did."

CJ laughs at that. "He didn't! Toby said that?"

I shrug. "I told him I'd do the same if he ever shaved off his beard, so I guess we're even."

They both laugh at that, and I join in. "You two are something else," CJ tells me, shaking her head, and she looks far more relaxed than she was earlier on.

"Yeah," I say, looking at my watch. "I wonder where he is?"

"He was waiting for the President when I came out of the Oval," CJ tells me.

I groan, leaning back and arching my back as I stretch. "That's enough then. They'll be in for the long haul."

"Time to head home," Donna agrees. "Unless you guys want to head out?"

CJ shakes her head. "I'm still not in the mood," she replies. We must look worried, because she adds, "But I do feel better. Thank you."

"That's what we're here for," I tell her, concluding to myself that Donna and I have just done a good night's work here, cheering her up.

"Never underestimate the Sisterhood," Donna concludes, and laughing, we all head back to our respective desks, vowing that we really must go out some time soon.

I drive home, having gleaned from CJ's words that there's no way that Toby's going to be getting home any time soon. Once inside the door, the first thing that I do is kick off my shoes, not forgetting to pick them up and bring them into the bedroom. I've forgotten to do that a couple of times, but I've been far more careful since the night that Toby tripped over one of them and, according to him at least, damn near broke his neck. I know for a fact that it was nowhere near that serious, if for no other reason than that I made it up to him later on that night, but it's not worth having to put up with the lecture if it happens again.

I change out of my work clothes, finding a baggy pair of jeans and an old faded shirt that may once have been Toby's, and brushing out my hair. Then I curl up on the couch in front of the television, flipping channels until I find something that I like, one of those sappy films that I should know better than to like, that Toby always teases me over when he sees me watching them.

The next thing I know, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and a familiar voice saying my name. I blink sleepily, rubbing a hand over my eyes. "Toby?" I ask stupidly, and I hear him chuckle.

"Who else is going to be waking you up and giving you hot chocolate?" he asks, a fairly reasonable question I might add. He sits down on the couch beside me, handing one mug of chocolate to me, then wrapping his arm around my shoulders. A quick peek at the mug assures me that he's used my favourite one, the one that he can't stand, and a look into the mug tells me that he's even added the marshmallows.

"What did I do to deserve you?" I ask him, lifting my head up to kiss the side of his cheek.

"I should be asking that question," he says quietly, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it makes me smile, and press my body closer to him.

"How did things go with the President?" I asked him, taking a sip of my drink, feeling the warmth spreading through me.

"As expected," he sighs. "We can't afford to call a lame duck session and lose. And there's no chance that this thing'll get passed with the new Congress. So, we're nowhere." I can feel his frustration, but I don't say anything. He needs to get this out of his system, and right now, that's what I'm here for. "It's just… it's a feeling that we're here, and we're trying to do something, to do something good, and we're just getting nowhere."

"There are days when it works like that," I tell him gently, reaching my own arm around to stroke the back of his neck. "It'll get better. It always does."

He lets out a long breath, looking down at his mug. "Yeah," he sighs. Then he looks up again and manages a smile. "Yeah, I know that."

I look at the clock on the mantel, realising for the first time just how long I've been home asleep. "It took you that long to agree on that?"

He rolls his eyes. "He invited me up the Residence. We shared cigars while he gave me a lesson on the nature of democracy, and he whipped me at chess while he was doing it."

I laugh at his dry tone, because I know how much fun that must have been for him. "Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it was." He smiles too. "All I could think about was how I'd much rather be here with you."

"Which must have done wonders for your chess game."

"Which has never been good to begin with."

"I'll remember you said that."

"Just don't say it around Sam."

"Done."

"What happened with CJ and Danny today?" he asks after a minute.

I shake my head. "I think it's over."

"Did it ever begin?" he asks, and I think I may have talked myself into trouble a little there. There are things that I know that he doesn't, so I measure my words carefully.

"Not really. But he was offered an editor's job." He raises both eyebrows. "He turned it down."

"Oh." The word is a soft exhalation of breath.

"Yeah. And, you know, I think that if he'd taken it, they'd have been ok. But CJ won't date someone from the room. She knows what that would do to her reputation. And Danny doesn't want to quit being a reporter." I shrug. "So they're nowhere."

His arm tightens around me, and I feel him place a kiss on top of my head. "Yeah."

"You know what I was thinking about today?" He looks at me curiously, so I continue. "That first night we met." A smile comes to his lips. "How we stayed up all night, riding the ferry…"

"How Sal mortified you at the diner," he adds, chuckling, and I laugh outright. The night that we got married, there was a huge party at the bar in Manchester, with most of the campaign staff turning up to wish us well. But we were the only two who cracked up laughing when the jukebox began playing Chapel of Love and we couldn't explain to anyone else why. When we first went back to New York after we were married, one of the first places that we went to was Sal's place, and once he heard that we were married, he gave us a meal on the house and blasted Chapel of Love over and over again on the jukebox. We were sick of it by the time that we left. After we left there, we went back to the Staten Island Ferry, reliving the night of our first date again. Which had Donna swooning over how romantic it was, and Toby making us promise never to tell Josh or Sam because they'd never let him live it down. Of course, they found out and they haven't, but that wasn't my fault.

"That was a good night," I tell him now.

"Yeah," he tells me softly. "It was. I did a good day's work when I agreed to do that lecture."

"They all thought I was crazy, waiting for you afterwards. Smartest thing I ever did."

"I just thought you were one of those students who liked to know everything. Sitting up the top of the class, taking notes like crazy…" he chuckled. "I noticed you right away…"

"Because of your thing for redheads," I interject.

"Partly," he allows. "But mostly because of you."

"Good answer." My chocolate is finished by now, and I lean forward and put the mug back down on the table, taking his empty mug from him too and placing it beside mine. Then I lean back into his arms again, and he wraps them around me tightly, just like he did that first night on the ferry. We don't speak after that; we're just content to enjoy the silence.

This is my favourite part of the day; the times when we just sit here like this, together. As if we're an ordinary married couple, who live ordinary lives. We're not the White House Communications Director and his assistant, we're Toby and Ginger, husband and wife. And we're happy. It's funny, when you've been with someone for a while, you get complacent, you get used to things; start taking them for granted. You forget how much you enjoy them; they become habit, instead of something to be savoured. I didn't know how much I valued these times, how much I valued my marriage, until nights like this were a thing of the past, until it looked like my marriage was slipping from my grasp. I swore a hundred times if I swore it once this summer, that if things ever got back to the way they were, I'd never take it for granted again, and I never have. I never will again.

And it hits me then what CJ and Donna were trying to tell me earlier on in the office; why they love to hear the story of how I met Toby and how it gives them hope. Because that one wonderful night led to this; to the two of us, sitting on our couch, wrapped in each other's arms, in our house. We're together; we're perfectly content.

Who wouldn't want to hope for that?


End file.
